The Stolen Girl (The Veil and the Crown) Read online

  Rose’s hands flew to her open mouth. I will marry! This is what I prayed to hear. Excitedly, she grabbed Aimée’s hands and giggled. The old woman’s words had banished any remaining fears, and they sat transfixed, waiting to hear more.

  “You will marry a man of fair complexion.” Euphemia closed her eyes, cocked her head and frowned before continuing. “Dis man was meant to be da husban of another in your family.”

  The girls exchanged puzzled looks. What does she mean? Rose opened her mouth to ask for clarification but, as if reading her mind, the old woman continued matter-of-factly.

  “Da young lady whose place you are called to fill will not live long.”

  The girls were shocked by the mention of death. A girl in their family? One of their cousins or one of Rose’s two sisters? They did not dare to ask. Their breathing became shallow as they waited for the old woman to continue.

  The seeress muttered to herself and shook her head slowly back and forth, poking at the bones and whispering to them in a strange dialect. Then she looked directly into Rose’s eyes again and spoke softly. “A young Creole, who you love, does not cease to tink of you, but you will never marry dis boy.”

  Rose’s face flushed deep red as she released Aimée’s hands and moved back, widening the space between herself and the witch. How could she know about William? No one knew of her trysts with William, not even Aimée.

  Aimée’s brow furrowed and she shot her cousin a look that asked, what boy? But Rose shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and carefully removed a small white feather from her lap.

  Euphemia David smiled slyly and nodded her head. “You will have two marriages, chérie.”

  Both girls shifted their attention to the seeress. “Two?” Rose asked.

  “Your first husban’ will be a man born here on dis islan but who resides in Europe. Dis man will wear a sword and enjoy some moments of good fortune.” The old woman paused.

  “And?” Rose asked.

  “A sad legal matter will separate you from him, and after many great troubles, which are to befall da kingdom of da Franks, he will perish tragically, an’ leave you a widow wit’ two children.”

  Two children. A bittersweet smile crossed Rose’s face. Marriage and children—but first the death of a girl in my family, and then my husband. This prediction was proving to be far more complex and serious than she had imagined. The gravity of the woman’s words subdued her initial excitement.

  The old woman’s bracelets jangled as she poked at the bones again. “Your secon’ husban will be of an olive complexion, of European birt’ and wit’out fortune.” She paused, unsure of what she saw and then became excited. “Yet, he will become famous and will fill da world wit’ his glory, subjecting many great nations to his power.” Her voice rose. “Wit’ him you will become an eminent woman an possess a supreme dignity.” She paused again to let her words take effect as Rose imagined herself a grand lady, the wife of a powerful and important man. The old woman’s voice brought them back to the present.

  “Da country in which what I foretell must happen is part of Celtic Gaul. More dan once, in da midst of your prosperity, you will regret da loss of da happy an’ peaceful life you had here, on dis islan’.”

  Aimée bit her bottom lip. I knew I should have resisted Rose in this endeavor. It makes no sense. How can one be great and powerful and yet unhappy?

  The old woman laughed softly. “Lest you tink my words untrue, at da moment you shall leave dis islan’, a flame of light will appear in da sky, da first sign of your astonishing destiny.”

  Euphemia David clapped her hands once in front of her face, then leaned forward to look directly into Rose’s eyes and whispered, “You will be a queen, Doudou.”

  Mimi, who had not moved a muscle since the woman had begun to speak, suddenly came to life and screamed, “You gonna be a queen, Yeyette! She say you gonna be a queen!”

  Rose and Aimée grinned at each other, then laughed.

  With her last words, the withered old hands reached out almost too quickly to be seen and scooped up every bone on the floor in one deft motion. She deposited them into a hollow gourd by her side and fell into fits of laughter.

  The three girls were stunned. In a matter of minutes, the old woman had painted a vivid picture of Rose’s life to come, which included deaths of loved ones, travel to France, two marriages, children, fame, fortune and regret. The images swarmed in their heads.

  The old woman wiped tears off her face, closed her eyes and spoke softly once again. “After having astonished da world, ma chérie, you will die miserable and alone.”

  Rose’s brow furrowed momentarily, then she shrugged her shoulders. “I shall not care,” she said in an imperious manner. “To be a queen in life shall be quite enough.” She tilted her beautiful head, nose in the air, la grande dame posing for a portrait.

  Euphemia David observed the pose and nodded slowly, as if her prediction had already been confirmed. “Oui, ma chérie, oui.” Then she turned her gaze towards Aimée.

  Rose prodded her cousin to make her offering, but Aimée did not move. After hearing Rose’s fate, she no longer wanted to know her own. What if it was as sad as Rose’s? She turned to her cousin with pleading eyes, but Rose sighed with exasperation and shook her head. Aimée took a deep breath and cautiously extended her closed right hand towards the old woman.

  When their hands met, Euphemia David held Aimée’s firmly with both of hers, and closed her eyes. The girls could see the woman’s eyes move rapidly beneath closed lids. She turned Aimée’s hand palm up and pried it open to reveal the coffee grounds. At the sight of it, the old woman uttered a sharp cry and held on tighter. Aimée tried to free her hand, but the woman held it fast. She moved her weathered face closer to the girl’s open palm, and tilted her head slowly from side to side, as if listening. She bowed closer to Aimée’s palm and began to speak.

  “You will soon be sent to France, to perfect your education,” she said quietly.

  Paris, Aimée thought, as all her trepidation instantly disappeared. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she had to move closer to the woman to hear her words. Rose and Mimi also moved in closer.

  The woman spoke the next words very rapidly. “When you leave dat place, your ship will be taken by Algerian Corsairs who will take you captive. From dare you will be conducted into a seraglio.” She paused for a moment to look into Aimée’s startled eyes, although she had comprehended only part of what was said, the word “captive.” She tried in vain to free her hand from the seer’s grasp.

  Euphemia David looked back into the coffee grounds and continued, “Dare you will have a son who shall reign gloriously. But da steps to da throne will first have been sprinkled wit’ da blood of his predecessor. As for you, you will never enjoy public honors of da court, but you will live in a vast and magnificent palace, in which you shall rule.” Again the woman stopped, poking carefully at the coffee grounds and muttering to herself. All three of the girls were frozen by the old woman’s words. No one moved or even seemed to breathe.

  “At da moment when you t’ink yourself most happy, your happiness shall vanish like a dream, and a wasting disease will conduct you to da tomb.”

  She turned Aimée’s hand over abruptly, dropping the coffee grounds into her own palm. Stunned and confused by the woman’s words and not having understood them entirely, Aimée looked at her cousin, who simply stared at her with an open mouth and wide, frightened eyes. Both girls were still unable to speak.

  Having said all she had to say, Euphemia David emptied the grounds into the gourd and picked up her pipe. She stuck it into the corner of her mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. With a mischievous grin on her ancient face, she looked at the two young girls. “Me t’inks I see two queens in my house today.”

  The witch’s words broke the spell of speechlessness.

  Two queens.

  The cousins’ startled expressions collapsed as they began to laugh nervously. Scooting backwards on thei
r hands and knees, they moved away from the old woman, then stood and ran out of the house. Rose shrieked, “Two queens, Maymay, two queens!”

  Mimi followed them out of the house and led the way through the jungle back to Trois Islets. All of their fears had dissolved with the impact of those final words; Rose and Aimée would both be queens. Aimée’s fear of retribution, Rose’s fear of remaining unwed and Mimi’s fear of being sold for her part in the transgression—all disappeared. Who could think of anything bad when they were both going to be queens?

  Before entering the darkened house, the three girls held hands in a tight circle and swore to keep their visit and its revelations secret.

  “And do not even think of confessing this to Father Christophe,” Rose admonished.

  Aimée looked at the ground and remained silent.

  “Aimée? You must agree or we will all be lost.”

  With the realization that she would be putting them all in jeopardy, she agreed. “Of course. For all of our sakes.”

  Mimi ran to her quarters and the cousins crept back into Rose’s bedroom unobserved. They climbed into adjoining beds, letting down the mosquito netting to make one big gauze tent around them. Then they began to discuss every part of the predictions the old woman had made.

  “We will both travel to France.” Aimée squealed. “Paris, Rose, truly.”

  For more than a year, the girls had discussed little else. Nothing ever happened on the island outside of weddings, funerals and baptisms at the church. The annual governor’s ball in Fort-Royal was the only social event of the year, and their single experience of that had been hugely disappointing because it was attended by the same people always present at church functions. New faces rarely ever appeared anywhere on Martinique, which explained Aimée and Rose’s preoccupation with Paris. Their regular daylong discussions of a future filled with fancy balls, teas, operas and horse races accounted for much of their entertainment.

  “Not only will I marry, I shall marry twice. I shall have two husbands... befitting a queen,” Rose said grandly, “and dozens of lovers. Why did she not tell about my lovers?”

  “Oh, Rose. How can you speak so blithely of such a thing?” Aimée replied, embarrassed by her cousin’s open sensuality. They fell into fits of nervous laughter.

  “And a flame from the sky will burn up my ship!” Rose declared dramatically.

  “No, not burn it up, light it up,” Aimée corrected. “It will light up the sky I think.”

  “Ooooh, I can’t wait to go to France, but how stupid of her to say that one of my family will die so that I may marry. How perfectly awful to say such nonsense. Perhaps we should not have gone after all,” she teased Aimée.

  Aimée’s fear of retribution suddenly resurfaced. “Do you really think it will come true? Is it the price of our sins for consorting with the Devil?”

  Rose thought for a moment, then sagely replied, “Don’t be a ninny. She is just an old woman, and only the good parts will come true.”

  Aimée wanted to believe Rose, but her mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. Was the woman one of the Devil’s minions, tempting her with tales of Paris and queens?

  They listened to a nighttime cacophony of the island’s frogs and crickets wafting through the open windows with the warm, heady scent of datura and frangipani. “Rose, what exactly is a corsair?” Aimée asked.

  Rose rolled her eyes at her cousin’s naiveté. “A pirate, silly.”

  Aimée bolted upright in her bed, her eyes wide with fear. “Pirates are going to abduct me and put me in a seraglio? Oh, Rose, what is a seraglio?”

  Rose doubled over with laughter and smacked the bed repeatedly with her hands. “Aimée, how can you be so stupid?” she squealed. “Don’t you know anything?” She flopped onto her back, and pulled the linen sheet up over the lower part of her face to cover everything up to her eyes. Still holding the sheet to her face, she sat up and moved towards Aimée. “A seraglio, my little cousin, is the Sultan’s harem.”

  “Harem? Holy mother of God!” Aimée furiously crossed herself and whispered, “A fate worse than death. Rose, to be amongst barbarians? I knew it was a sin. God forgive me, Blessed Mother forgive me. Witchcraft is the Devil’s tool, Rose. We consorted with the Devil and even if her predictions don’t come true, we sinned just going there. Oh, why did I listen to you?” she wailed.

  Rose climbed into her cousin’s bed and wrapped her arms around her. “Don’t be stupid, Maymay. No one is going to steal you away from us. And where does the Bible say that it’s a sin to know the future?”

  “Rose, witchcraft is blasphemy, a sin against God. They burn witches. We have sinned and will surely be punished.”

  “Oh, that’s what old Father Christophe tells you. My Papa says that it’s just superstitious mumbo jumbo to scare ignorant slaves. So which is true?”

  “I have always believed Father Christophe, but now,” she paused and furrowed her brow, “I do not know what to believe and I certainly do not wish to have sinned.”

  Rose sighed heavily. “Well then, Aimée, maybe you should just become a nun.”

  “But I would much rather be a queen.”

  “Of course you would. So, believe what I tell you, silly. Only the good parts will come true.”

  Rose bounced back to her own bed and Aimée held onto the tiny gold cross at her throat, fervently wishing to believe her cousin’s pronouncement. “I would so love to be a queen and wear fine silks and live in a palace with a king.”

  “More fun than being a nun.” Rose teased.

  Both girls squealed with delight. They continued to talk and giggle until they were too tired to stay awake.

  Chapter 2

  July 31, 1777

  The following morning, Aimée opened her eyes to the familiar mosquito netting surrounding the beds in her cousin Rose’s room. Soft morning sunlight filtered through the wooden shutters that had been left ajar to let in the cool night air. The morning coolness would soon be replaced by burning midsummer heat. She turned her head to the left, and saw that Rose was still asleep. If I don’t wake her I can have a few more minutes to myself, she thought.

  The tragedy and loss of her early life had given rise to a habit of introspection, a propensity not shared with her cousin, who seemed to breeze through life without ever needing to think about it. I wish I could be more like Rose—so unconcerned with matters of conscience and morality. But, surely this attitude will eventually lead her into the fires of hell—if they haven’t already. I must remember to ask what the old woman meant about Rose loving a boy. What boy and why don’t I know about him?

  At the moment, Aimée needed time to sort through the events of the previous evening, to find some way to atone. How am I going to make my weekly confession to Father Christophe without lying when omission is a lie as well? I promised to keep our secret but if I don’t confess my sin, how will I ever be absolved? Rose had no understanding of it, but the priest was chosen by her dying mother as the guardian of her daughter’s Catholic soul. She felt closer to him than to her uncle, who was seldom home and with whom she rarely spoke.

  She crossed herself and clasped her hands in prayer beneath her chin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused all of her attention inwardly to the place where she hoped her prayers might gain enough strength to reach God’s ears, an image Da Angelique had passed on to her when she was a child. First, she appealed to His willingness to give sinners a second chance. Dear God, she silently prayed, forgive me for I have sinned. She bit her lower lip to increase her concentration, but could not decide on the order to list her transgressions. Why did I allow Rose to lead me into temptation in the first place? Why do I always?

  Before she could begin her prayers, Rose rolled over groggily. Masses of wavy black hair obscured her face, and she reached out a hand and gently poked Aimée’s side. “Wake up, sleepy girl, or we’ll be late for mass.”

  Aimée quickly unclasped her hands and rested them on her chest. “I am awake, cousin, a
wake and mortified at my behavior of last night.”

  Rose sat up abruptly and swept her hair off her face. “Don’t be a ninny. It was just a lark.”

  “A lark you say? How can you? It was a sin, Rose. I know I should not have gone. Why did you make me?”

  “No one made you do anything, Maymay. You know perfectly well that you were just as curious as I. And anyway, we were not discovered, so what harm can it possibly do?”

  “What harm? I am to be abducted by Corsairs and put into a... a...” she sputtered in frustration, “a seraglio.”

  Rose laid her hand on her cousin’s shoulder and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “Aimée, you can’t believe what that old witch said. Not a word of it is true. The woman is plainly a fake, telling us we will both be queens. Ridiculous, I tell you.”

  Aimée’s brow furrowed momentarily, but her cousin’s certainty always alleviated her fears. Rose knows better than I, she told herself. “It does sound rather preposterous. Have I exaggerated again?” she asked. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. “If she had said just you were to be a queen I could believe it.”

  “Stop worrying, chérie,” Rose said. “It’s just vodoun rubbish... and you’re probably right. We should not have wasted our time.”

  Aimée felt relieved. Despite the fact they were the same age, she always thought of Rose as older, wiser and worldlier than herself. “Truly silly. Of course, you’re right, as usual, but I wish I had never heard of such things as corsairs and seraglios. And Rose, do you think she may not be a minion of the devil if she can’t really see the future?”

  Rose hugged her. “Oh, hush, Maymay. Remember what my Papa says. She neglected to add that her Creole mother believed wholeheartedly in divination and that, on occasion, she herself relied upon the power of the vodoun charms her kitchen servants brought from the vodouisant, the old herbalist. Catholic mysticism and West African vodoun had become so enmeshed by the island’s population that they could no longer be separated. Catholic saints and West African spirit gods, or loas, had coexisted peacefully in the Caribbean for more than one hundred years, ever since Catholics had decided it was their mission to save the “heathen African” souls.